


Trust Me

by standtooclose



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Angels, Dean - Freeform, Demons, Destiel - Freeform, F/M, Fanfiction, Love, M/M, Multi, Romance, SPN - Freeform, Sam - Freeform, Story, Supernatural - Freeform, Winchester - Freeform, cas, cass - Freeform, castiel - Freeform, supernaturalau
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-04-25 20:39:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14386680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/standtooclose/pseuds/standtooclose
Summary: I never really thought of how I'd die.Though I knew that one day Death would find me and drag me down stairs. However, I didn't fear it; I didn't care for it. I face Death everyday, and he's afraid of me. God, every damn thing should be afraid of me. And the fact that they don't, that is why the keep on dying; why everything always ends up in the grasp of Death himself.Because I am Dean Winchester, son of John and Mary Winchester; the executioner of demons, and angels, and so many other supernatural beings; a man who avoided Death a thousand times; a man who had been touched by a fallen angel; a man who killed Hitler himself.I did it all.And there is so much more to come; so much more I will do.Unless they get me first.





	1. one

Chapter One

I never really thought of how I'd die.

Though I knew that one day Death would find me and drag me down stairs. However, I didn't fear it; I didn't care for it. I face Death everyday, and he's afraid of me. God, every damn thing should be afraid of me. And the fact that they don't, that is why the keep on dying; why everything always ends up in the grasp of Death himself.

Because I am Dean Winchester, son of John and Mary Winchester; the executioner of demons, and angels, and so many other supernatural beings; a man who avoided Death a thousand times; a man who had been touched by a fallen angel; a man who killed Hitler himself.

I did it all.

And there is so much more to come; so much more I will do.

Unless they get me first. 

 

.-~~*~~-.

 

"I can't believe you listen to this crap," Dean said with audible disgust as Sam switched the radio to alternative rock. Sure, Dean was practically married to classic rock it self, but alternative was nothing near rock. Classics were the real and good stuff.

"Hey," Sam said with arms raised up in defense. "I listen to your music all the time; it's my turn now. And if you don't like it, you can just deal with it."

"Or," he replied with a mischievous grin, "I could just change it." Ignoring Sam's plead to not change the channel, Dean switched it to Bohemian Rhapsody. 'Queen' was the reason classic rock existed, and he knew Sam couldn't object to their beauty of music.

Sam cast me a flat, agitated face, but Dean could see the hint of smile trying to spread across his lips. "Hah!" He exclaimed triumphantly. "You do like my music, and you cannot object."

Sam rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. "Whatever," he muttered.

"What's so wrong with liking my music?" Dean inquired, glancing at him with a curious, yet mocking, tilt of his head.

"Nothing," Sam said. "I just wished you wouldn't change it all the time."

So he was angry because Dean didn't like his music tastes? Pish-posh. Rolling his emerald eyes, I tapped my fingers against the impala's wheel, the music causing me to drift off into another world. This world—the world where everything was vinyl and serene—was what I truly wanted. However, what I wanted never came around, did it?

"So get this," Sam said, changing the subject as he pulled out his iPhone. "There's been a murder in Ohio, and even the FEDs don't know what happened. However, the death was seemingly caused by massive blood loss, despite the fact that the victim had no sever wounds."

Huh. "So, Edward is betraying his vegetarianism and going savage? I never thought this day would come."

"First of all, Twilight isn't real. Secondly, we don't know if this is a Vampire case," Sam muttered. Why was he always so defensive?

"Blood loss, no sever wounds... Sounds a lot like the Collins to me." And yes, he would continue with the Twilight references to piss Sammy Boy off.

Seeing Sam roll his eyes in the corner of his peripheral vision, a grin spread across his lips triumphantly. One point of D. Winchester, zero for Samsquatch.

Listening to the hum of the engine, they spent the rest of the drive towards Ohio in excruciating silence. Dean was itching to say something, but he couldn't bring myself to add another sentence. Perhaps he could add a point to Sam's side for this. Frowning to himself, he clenched the wheel in both hands, and relief flooded me at the sight of Ohio's welcome sign.

Once they reached their destination, Dean said to Sam, "Ready to see Bella?" Sam let out an exasperated sigh, rubbing both of his hazel eyes. Grinning, he grabbed my 'FBI' badge from the impala's counsel and vacated the vehicle, Sam following his tail.

He may not look professional, due to my flannel and jeans, but he was sure that he and Sam could pull this off. Somehow. 

Red and blue lights illuminated the area around them, turning the office building—the building where the victim was found dead—into a practical dance club.

Reaching an officer, who looked like the deputy of the local town, Dean instantly pulled out my badge. Seeing the man turn to face me, he flashed him the badge and said:

"I'm Agent Vince, and this is my partner—“ He gestured to Sam, "—Agent Burtousky. We're here for the investigation of Ms. Waters."

The deputy narrowed his brown eyes at us both, adjusting his pitch-black sunglasses that reminded Dean of the ones from Men in Black. Too bad he wasn't FED, cause that would make his day.

"Of course," the deputy replied after several moments. "Some crazy shit happened, and we're not even sure how Waters died." That he knew. 

"The report said that she was sucked dry, yes?" Sam said from behind him. 

"Mmhmm," the deputy murmured. "It was like the Love Sucks movie." He turned to Sam with a grin. If he would recall, that movie was a parody of Twilight. Sam shot him an annoyed glance, and then focused back on the deputy.

"And where is the body now?" Sam asked him.

"We brought her to the St. Joseph's hospital, and her body's being checked up. Though, the family's demanding Waters' to be brought to the funeral home. That poor husband and daughter..." He made a clucking sound with his tongue, shaking his head sadly. 

"All right," he said. "Thanks, uh, for your time. And if there's anything else that happens—“ he offered the deputy a card with my number—“ then please give us a call."

"Will do," the deputy said in conclusion, and left without so much as a goodbye.

"Well, that was easy," Dean muttered as they walked back to the impala. He really wished he had one of those buttons for every time he said those four words.

"Now we can check up on the body, and then hunt whatever did this."

Dean rolled his eyes. "This is definitely a vampire case. We can just find the nest, and then be on our way." He opened the driver's side door and got in in unison of Sam.

"I know," Sam confirmed. Finally, that kid gave in! "But." Why were there always 'but's'? "We still have to check the body."

Dean huffed and started Baby's engine, classic rock instantly bursting from the speakers. "Can you turn that down?" 

He looked at Sam for a flat second, and then acquiesced grudgingly. At least Bob Marley wasn't my favorite artist. After another excruciating hour of driving, they finally reached St. Joseph's. It was the stereotypical type of hospital, with the white concrete perimeter and the barred up windows. It looked more so like an asylum rather than a hospital. He doubted anyone would want to get all healthy here, because he definitely wouldn't, despite what he’s seen in my few decades.

"You sure we go the right address?" He asked Sam rhetorically. "It looks like Frankenstein's laboratory, minus the lightning and evil laughs."

Sam only laughed softly and continued to move forward, entering the "hospital". Cringing, he forced himself to do so as well. Once we finally entered, the inside was dreadfully the same as the outside. Everything was completely ivory, and the only colors were the sparse shrubs in black pots. The secretary, as he could see, looked a lot like Martha Stuart. However, the almost too perfect bun and the round glasses threw me off.

Just with one look, Dean knew it wouldn't take much to get her to do what he wanted. However, he wasn't entirely interested. He would rather go for the cougars than the... Stuarts. Looking up as he felt someone's intensity on him, he noticed Sam pointedly staring right at him, clearly telling him to stop staring at Martha. Rolling his eyes, he strolled to the front desk and said:

"Hello, mam. I'm Agent Vince, and this is Agent Burtousky, my partner." They both flashed our badges in unison for a mere second. She eyes it warily, and then nodded.

"What can I do for you two?" She asked with her eyes hungrily roaming Sam. He couldn't help but laugh; Sam was totally in! And he didn't have to worry about anything anymore.

Sam coughed slightly and said, "We're here to inspect Ms. Waters body."

She hesitated a moment, a finger tapping the table restlessly. Who knew that the mention of Waters' would put someone on edge. "She's in the back," was all she said, clearly a dismissal. Clucking his tongue, Dean began to walk away, Sam on his tail like usual.

"That was a little weird," Sam murmured.

"Hungry eyes or—“

"Shut up."

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

Dean grinned, knowing he had gotten under Sam’s skin. God, it was fun to annoy the Hell out of Sammy! Soon they finally reached the end of the hall, and he noticed the Autopsy room. Groaning with satisfaction, he didn't bother to knock as Dean walked in. Immediately seeing a short, chubby man with a partially bald held stand up at our arrival, he said:

"You must be the FEDs!" He said with great enthusiasm.

"It's not like we're Jesus or somethin'," Dean muttered under his breath, only to receive a punch in my side from Sam. Glaring at him, he said to the man: "Yes, and we'd like to inspect Waters'."

He clucked his tongue, his hands resting on his circular sides. "We already did that, and she was clearly sucked dry, and there's nothing that can explain that."

"Well, we know something that you doctors don't. So if you let us get to work—“

Sam cut in, "What my partner means is that we have extra procedures that the FBI has taught us, and we'd like to see what we're looking for could possibly be correct." 

"Sure, sure," he said slowly. "One sec." 

And with that, Santa Claus quickly moved to the other side of the room and opened the body box. Sam instantaneously began towards it, and Dean followed suit, staring down at Rachel's sheet covered body. Removing the white sheet, he eyed her pruned face that looked as if she could have been beautiful before this. 

"She was so young..." Sam whispered. Sure, if you can look past all the wrinkles, she could have been about fifteen-twenty years old. My heart sunk just at the thought. 

"There isn't much to see except for the, well, pruned skin and bones," the doctor said, cutting me from my thoughts.

"We'll just go through a few things, and then we'll be out of your way," Sam said.

The doctor looked him up and down warily, then nodded and walked away. "Thank goodness Chuckles here left us alone," Dean muttered.

Sam rolled his eyes, and then began to remove the sheet from the body. As Sam inspected the body, he said after a few moments: "Hey, I think I found something."

Dean instantly moved to see where he pointed, squinting his eyes and gave him a confused look. Dean didn't see squat, besides something that looked like a… code? Sam huffed slightly and said, "You see this?"—He gestured to the small holes located bellow her jawline, as well as a barcode?—“She's been tagged."

"Yeah, I see that, Sherlock." I gave him a pointed look.

"This isn't a normal vamp' kill, unless there's something more to her than we thought."

"We're not here for personal life, Sammy. We hunt monsters, but we're not looking for anything 'bout gangs and people with fetishes of well, coding."

"We don't know if she was apart of a gang, Dean. Vampires do mischievous and deceitful things, and she could have been... I don't know... Tracked or tagged so they knew where to find her?"

He looked from Sam to the 'mummy', then back to Sam. "We'll figure this out later," he said and then started towards the door, not bothering with a farewell to Dr. Chuckles.

Dean was sure this was a normal, easy case. But what if Sam was right? What if there was more to this?


	2. Two

Chapter Two

 

The lights flickered above his head, and the sound of the television being turned on buzzed in his ear. Little did he know that this would be the day his life changed. Forever. A few weeks had passed since the vampire case, and they figured out that it was just some pack of bitters that had a freezer full of dead people. 

He stood up from his spot on the motel couch, turning around in a small 360 to see what could be causing this commotion. He had warded off demons and ghosts… But what could be after him? 

“Who’s there?” The man dared to ask the entity that hid in this room. 

No answer.

“Show yourself!” He demanded louder.

At first no one answer, but then a high-pitched whine sang in his ear, and instantly it caused them to bleed. Letting out a cry of agony, the man fell to his knees, attempting to block out the noise. What the hell was this thing?

The windows shattered around him and the television sparked, causing him to scream. It was a poltergeist, wasn’t it? But then again… How would it be following him? The only things he carried around were his Baby, salt and guns. There were no family or random relics hanging around.

Ever so slowly, the whine died out, leaving the male relieved to fall to his side, letting out a gasp. This thing wanted to hurt him, but he was sure he could hurt it back—somehow.

“What are you?” He coughed, hoisting himself up slowly to his feet. “What do you want?” He stumbled towards the demon’s blade on the green, chipped dresser, knowing that this blade could kill anything that dared to hurt him. Staring at the door, awaiting for something to come in, there was still no answer. Son of a bitch.

And before he knew it, the door blasted open, sending a light of purity right at the man. “What the hell—“ He exclaimed, but then was thrown into the molded wall, hearing a horrible crack.

His vision blurry, he noticed a dark figure walking into the room, a long coat hugging his torso. As it came closer, he began to notice its features. Raven black hair, startling blue eyes and a normal, curious face of a man. It looked normal, harmless… But he knew it wanted to hurt him, just like it already had.

The male let out a gasp as the entity got closer, a lip’s breath away. “Personal space…” The man laughed with no emotion. 

The thing furrowed his brows, tilting its head slightly. “An angel of the Lord doesn’t give humans ‘personal space’.”

Oh, he was an idiot for saying: “And humans don’t tolerate demons pretending to be a Holy Ass.”

The thing that claimed to be an angel took a small step back, allowing the man to breathe. “Dean Winchester, yes?” How did he know his name?

“Uh… Yeah?”

“I’ve been sent to save you.” Like Hell this “angel” wanted to save him. He literally just threw him across the room into a wall!

“Bull shit,” he snapped.

The “angel” tilted his head to the other side, his blue eyes inspecting him. Well, this was uncomforting and weird. “You have doubts,” he murmured, getting closer once again. Dean tried to take a step back, but the wall prevented him from doing so. Shit. “Why do you doubt the Lord?”

Was it so hard to guess? “Look, ‘angel’”—he said with finger quotations—“I don’t believe in your religious crap because it ain’t real. Your ‘Lord’ that you speak of, even if he is real, doesn’t want anything to do with hunters—especially me.”

“Why do you think so lowly of yourself?”

“Why do you ask so many questions?” Dean shot back, a muscle feathering in his jaw.

A shadow crossed over the angel’s face, and he knew that he stepped over a line. “Hey, I—“

“You should be showing me respect, human,” he snarled, his blue eyes flaring a bright white. Oh, Dean was screwed! “If it weren’t for me, that demon that was seconds away from killing your ‘ass’ wouldn’t be dead right now.”

Dean made an ‘O’ with his mouth, avoiding the angel’s gaze. “So that lights, camera, action thing wasn’t you?” He inquired.

“No,” he said with a calmer tone, “that was me. I was trying to communicate with you, but it seems you cannot comprehend the angel’s voice.”

“Oh, buddy, lower the volume!” God, he hoped he never had to hear that again. The only other creature that could make such a sound was a Banshee, but clearly this “angel” wasn’t one at all. However, this man could actually be telling the truth. But honestly, he wouldn’t believe squat until there was proof.

“Ah, yes…” The angel shook his head. “I’m sorry for the… inconvenience.”

“Uh, no chick flick moments,” he replied uncomfortably, mustering his most believable smile.

The angel gave him a weird look, and then finally stepped a good couple paces away, allowing Dean to breathe. 

“So, you’re really an angel of the Lord?” He asked the angel.

“No, I’m a demon from Hell that’s been lying.” Dean’s eyes widened, and immediately, he held the blade up to plunge it through his heart. “No, no! I was kidding! Humans joke, right?”

Dean let out a relieved sigh, but still held the blade firmly. “Bud, you’ll get yourself killed for making those kind of ‘jokes’.”

“Why do you keep calling me ‘Bud’ and ‘Buddy’?” The angel asked. That’s really what he was concerned about?

“What am I supposed to call you? Feathers?”

“No,” the angel said, furrowing his brows with confusion. “You can call me Castiel.” That was indeed a strange name—angelic if you asked anybody. But whoever named him must have been high on something.

“Huh,” Dean murmured, making a face. “Cass it is, then.”

“What’s up with the nicknames—“

Dean held a hand up to stop him. “I name everyone I know—even called some Hybrid breed a Jefferson Starship.” His face glowed at the memory, a smirk spreading across his lips. But for some reason, his brother Sammy wouldn’t tolerate the name, even after he had said he could name it.

“A Jefferson Starship?” Cass inquired, scratching his chin. “That’s highly peculiar.”

“Don’t judge my bands,” he said with a shrug, and slowly, he made his way around the angel, keeping a safe distance away. Sure, he was sent here to “save” him, but that didn’t mean he could just trust this thing.

“Trust me, I will try not to,” Cass replied. Surprisingly, Castiel actually knew what a band was. Seemingly, he wasn’t as far behind in culture as he thought.

The angel seemed pretty normal to him, and somewhat harmless—right now. Even though he had the voice of pure devastation—and a heart of ice—he seemed like a teddy bear. But Dean wouldn’t let this act distract him. He’s known many supernatural beings that had pretended to be kind, and in the end, they only stabbed him in the back—or he stabbed them.

Castiel watched me warily as I moved around the room, pretending to look at anything I could act as interesting. Picking up a rotting box of hamburger, he immediately recoiled as a whiff of fart enveloped him.

“Dude, was that you?” Dean asked as he looked at him, dropping the box.

Castiel opened his mouth, and then closed it. “Uh…” He tilted his head slightly. He did that a lot. “No?”

“Huh,” he murmured with a shrug. “Must have just been the spoiled food.” Castile gave him an annoyed look. “What?”

“You accused me of releasing gas, and then you assume it’s the sandwich, even though you already knew it was the sandwich?”

“Hey, I didn’t mean to offend your holiness.” The sarcasm wasn’t noted, and Cass took it genuinely.

“That is all right, Dean,” he said, his voice rough but kind. “My human skills are… a work in progress.” Dean had already discovered this ten minutes ago, but he wouldn’t tell him that. He didn’t want Cass to smite him into oblivion—if angels could even do that.

“Then, my friend, you’re going to have to work on them,” Dean said with a grin.

“Friend?” A smile formed across the angel’s lips. It was somewhat adorable, actually. “We’re friends? I never had any…” Isn’t that sad.

Not wanting to let the guy down, Dean simply said, “Yeah, only if you don’t use your angel mojo on me.”

“What if I need to use my angel blade?”

“Angel blade?” There was one to kill… angels?

“Would I ever have to use it against you?” That wasn’t what he was aiming for with the question, but he shrugged it off.

“Absolutely not,” Dean reassured him, shaking his head. Only if the angel didn't show any threat and Dean didn't try to kill him, the two would be fine, he supposed. "Anyways...." He said after a long moment. "You're here to "save me", but from what?"

"That isn't information I'm authorized to give you." Seriously?

“Then what can you give me?” Dean then asked, setting the blade down on the dresser, knowing there was no point of holding it.

Castiel looked stumped as he stood there, unblinking. He had a serious look to his face, but then again, there was something in his eyes that he couldn’t place. Although, he could tell that whatever it was, it didn’t want to harm him.

“Nothing that you want,” Cass said after a long, long moment. 

Dean scratched his chin, unsure of what he could ask now. He was stalling, but the angel didn’t know that. He could press him into telling the truth, he supposed. Or, perhaps, he could capture the being and torture it until he spilled. However, he knew that the demon’s blade would not kill him, nor would silver or iron. He knew nothing of what could harm him, and if he was an angel like he claimed, he wasn’t sure how to even get the angel’s blade.

Maybe he could run? But the angel could probably catch him, considering that angel’s were all of that “halo, wings and harp” stuff. So, in reality, Dean had no way of getting out of here. Cursing silently, the male continued to pace around the room, gradually stopping in front of the door. He made himself look like he was in no hurry to get away. He just hoped the angel would buy this act.

“Is there anything you can tell me? At all?” He felt like he was going too much at this, but it was worth a try.

Castiel thought for a moment, his blue eyes clouding over. Strange. “I wish I could, Dean, but unfortunately, my brothers are watching every move I make, and if I go against their orders, then I’ll be the least of your problems.” A threat, he presumed—but it wasn’t directly coming from him.

“So your brothers are babysitting you at this moment?” Dean asked. Castiel curtly nodded. “Creepy.”

Castiel chuckled softly, shaking his head. “My brothers find human and angel interaction hilarious,” he admitted, “and when I’m involved, I find it rather amusing.”

“Talking to me, you mean?” 

Castiel nodded again. “Of course,” he replied. “You thinking that you’re all mighty and able to run through that door without me noticing? It’s bizarre! I’m an angel of the Lord, and I have been thoroughly trained to eye your schemes.” Well, that just blew his plan.

Shifting uneasily, looking around the room, seeing no other exit but the front door, Dean knew he was screwed. But then, he realized, he could make a diversion. Moving to the other side of the room once again, he casually found the blade and grabbed it, slipping it into the belt of his pants. Making sure the angel didn’t notice, he leaned against the rotting wood, trying his best to not smell the hamburger, and watched the angel.

“Did you really think you could by pass me, Dean?” Castiel then asked the male, taking a few paces closer to him, his arms moving lazily against his sides.

“No,” he replied quickly, “I just thought it would have been easier to get away than it already is.”

Castiel stopped in his tracks, only five feet away from Dean. “Easy? How would this be… easy?”

“Considering that you’re oblivious to me stalling and grabbing a blade, it makes this very easy.”

“A demon’s blade cannot—“ The blade plunged through the angel’s chest as Dean hurled it at him. But he didn’t look hurt—at all. He tilted his head slightly, and then wrapped a hand around the blade and pulled it out. No blood poured from his wound. Shit. Instantly, Dean darted for the door, swinging it open to reveal the outdoors. 

He ran and ran, not looking back. He had to get away! Taking Baby’s keys from his pocket, Dean jumped into the side of the impala and put the keys into the ignition. But when he turned the vehicle’s keys, the screech of it refusing to work panicked him.

“No, no, no… Baby, not today! This can’t happen now!” Looking through the windshield, he watched as Castiel strode towards him, his trench coat flapping behind him from the wind, and his expression emotionless. He looked like the freaking Terminator!

“Son of a bitch!” He exclaimed as the impala still wouldn’t start. Struggling with ideas, he got out of the impala and moved to the trunk, believing he had a few moments to spare. 

Revealing a pile of revolvers, shotguns, blades, daggers and clips, the male pulled out a 45 and began to shoot. No one was around, thankfully, to see him act like a psychopath trying to kill an angel.

Five bullets hit the angel cleanly, but it didn’t affect him in any way whatsoever. Sure, he stopped for only a second to regain himself, but other than that, he was a machine that could cut you in half easily. He knew that angels were his least favorite beings now.

“Stay back!” Dean called, still holding the 45 up, ready to shoot even if it wouldn’t damage him.

Castiel continued to come forward, his steps quicker and more urgent. Oh, god. He was going to kill him, wasn’t he? Letting out a frustrated cry, the male turned around to run, but in moments, the angel stood before him, a hand raised. A yelp escaping his lips, he felt a warm hand touch his forehead, and instantly, the whole world turned black, and he had fallen unconscious.


	3. Three

Chapter Three

 

A light shone in his eye, preventing Dean to see. Letting out a groan due to the headache that pounded throughout his head, the male felt his eyes dilate and eventually adjust to the unfathomable white light. But as he tried to stand up, something tugged at his skin, and he knew he had been tied up.

“What the hell…” He frowned slightly, struggling slightly as he couldn’t even move his hands. The rope burned his skin, and he knew he wasn’t strong enough to break free.

But then a figure moved towards him, and Dean knew he had seen him before. But, for some reason, he couldn’t exactly place him. Black hair, blue eyes and a trench coat… Why did he tie him up?

“Why am I tied up?” Dean demanded to the stranger, squinting slightly as the light grew brighter.

“Extra precaution,” the stranger replied.

“But why?” He asked, still utterly confused. The only reason why some one would do this is if he attacked them, pissed them off, or if they just had some random grudge on him. Well, basically those three reasons were connected, and he supposed that he did each to this man. “Look, how about we sort this out man to man and then let me go?” It didn’t seem like a bad idea, did it?

“And why would I do that?” The stranger asked him, crouching before Dean to inspect him. He eyed him as if he were an experiment—like a scientist studying an ape.

“Uh…” Dean thought for a moment. “Because if you don’t, I will find a way to break free, and I will rip your throat out. With my teeth.” His words were deadly, and clearly his seriousness was audible. Honestly, he wouldn’t mind doing that; he already had a good couple hundred of different lives on his hands.

The stranger only laughed. He actually sounded amused. “Good luck with that.”

What was that supposed to mean? Did he really not get the chills about the threat? He knew many people that’d be running if he said that to them. But, apparently, this guy was different. Perhaps a little psychotic?

After a good amount of circling him, the stranger put a hand on his shoulder and said randomly, “Dean, all I asked was for you to trust me.” 

“But how can I do that when I don’t even know who you are?” This guy was definitely crazy! He ties him up, doesn’t even tell him why, and now he thinks he can just trust him? God, he’s insane.

“You don’t remember anything?” The stranger sounded concerned. 

“Remember what?” Last thing he remembered was sitting in the motel room and then… nothing. He must have blacked out or something.

The stranger eyed him and then walked away, murmuring something that sounded like “interesting…” 

“Hey!” Dean called, tugging at the rope. “Is there something you should be telling me? I mean, it’s my memories that have been, I don’t know, erased?” The stranger looked at him, tilting his head slightly. After a moment, he began to walk towards him, and then leaned in close enough that their lips could touch. Dean’s eyes widened at the lack of personal space. What was up with this guy?

“I will tell you what you need to know.” 

Dean shifted slightly, waiting for more, but when it didn’t come, he then said, “And that is…?”

The stranger made a weird look and finally moved away from him, looking at the gray wall. “I’m an angel of the Lord.” Okay… This guy really was insane.

“Yeah, and I’m Mary Poppins,” he said sarcastically, rolling his eyes with annoyance.

“Is this a joke to you?” The insane man asked him, his expression darkening. Dean sucked on a tooth, shrugging slightly. “If a man went up to you and said that they were a demon, would you believe them?”

“Only if they weren’t insane,” he replied smoothly.

Dean watched a muscle feather in the supposed angel’s jaw. “You hunters have no faith, do you? You think that monsters, ghosts and demons are the only things out there? But did you ever consider that there was a higher power? That there was someone that actually created you?”

“I have considered it, actually, thank you very much. But you know what? Why should I believe in a man who didn’t do shit for us? Who didn’t even try to help us people who were enduring the freaking Apocalypse? But you know who actually did something to help?” Dean searched his eyes, seeing nothing but a deep pool of nothing. “Me. I saved this world from going down the road of being demolished by the Devil himself. Where were you? You who claims to be an angel?”

The stranger didn’t move. He just stared, his eyes slitting. “I was in Heaven.” At least he was honest.

But nonetheless, Dean scoffed angrily, shaking his head. “You watched as the world went through shit?”

The stranger hesitated for a moment before murmuring: “Yes.”

“That’s what I thought.” Dean shook his head, biting the inside of his cheek. If this man was truly what he claimed to be, then he really was a jerk—not just for tying him up, but for watching them endure Hell.

“I need you to understand why—“

Dean cut him off. “Understand what?” He looked up at him with a relentless, green gaze. “You know what you ‘angels’ are like? Demons. Uncaring, lazy. Evil.”

Not even in seconds, the stranger was in his face, an angry growl escaping his lips. “Don’t ever relate me to a demon,” he snarled into his face. “Demons are followers of Lucifer; they go against my Father; they kill before they think. I will never be a demon.”

Dean stared at him with wide eyes, watching as the so-called angel storm off and through the metal door at the other side of the room. The bang of the door shutting caused him to flinch slightly, and the light flickered black, leaving him in the dark. Ass.

~~~~~

The next morning—he guessed—had come and the lights were finally on. He hadn’t slept, due to the constant thought of the possible returning of the angel, and finding that he was going to slit his throat. Of course, it didn’t actually happen, and he was rather relieved.

“Good mornin’,” Dean muttered as the angel walked in. A tray was in his hand, and he felt his stomach growl at the sight of food. It must have been hours since he had last eaten.

“Eat,” the stranger ordered, passing him the tray.

Dean’s expression flattened, and he wiggled his free wrists. “Does it look like I can grab anything, genius?” The stranger let out an annoyed sigh and set down the tray, cautiously untying the rope.

“Try anything,” he said to him, “then you’ll be gone-zo in seconds.” Dean put the threat in consideration and decided to not try anything. If this man was somehow telling the truth, then he knew that he literally would be dead if he tried to get away.

Watching as the angel took a few steps away, Dean slowly moved for the tray, and once he had grasped it, he looked at it and cringed. Carrots, a plain piece of bread and a banana. “Do I look like a rabbit to you?”

The stranger tilted his head slightly. “No, you look like an ape.” Dean snorted, shaking his head. Of course. 

“First of all, I am not an ape. Secondly, I don’t even think an ape would eat this piece of crap.”

“Apes are known to enjoy bananas—“

Dean interrupted him, “But humans would rather eat something more edible and less healthy.”

The stranger let out a sigh, crossing his arms. “If you will not eat this, then I suppose you don’t have to eat at all.” 

Dean’s face flushed, his stomach growling again. Looking at the tray, he then slowly picked at it, making sure the vegetables and rye bread wouldn’t murder him. The stranger watched him eat, and Dean felt highly uncomfortable. But nonetheless, he continued to munch on the disgusting substances called “food”.

Once he had finished, he let the “angel” take his tray and leaned into the chair, trying to not gag. I would love some pie at the moment… He thought to himself, frowning. But then the angel gestured for him to give him his hands.

“Ah… No.” He shook his head, moving his hands behind his back. “I’m fine like this, thank you very much.”

The angel gave him a flat look. “If you try anything—“

“Then you’ll kill me, blah, blah, blah… You already told me before. Trust me, I won’t try anything.” Honestly, he wasn’t intending on doing anything. Although, he did want to somehow get away, but he wasn’t sure how he’d pull that off.

“All right…” He said slowly, sitting down on the wheeled chair by the glass desk. As Dean looked around, it looked more like a science lab than a cell.

“Where are we?” He asked him.

“Massachusetts,” he told him.

Wasn’t he in Boston before? God, they went a long way away. But he must have been out for days after he blacked out… “That’s… far…” He murmured.

“It only took me a minute to get you here after I put you to sleep,” the stranger told him with a shrug.

“A minute?” That was highly unbelievable.

“With wings? Yes.”

Dean fidgeted slightly, shaking his head. Being locked up with a crazy person was at the bottom of his “want to do” list. “You have wings? So you angels are like the whole package? Wings, harp…”

The stranger furrowed his brows. “No… We don’t not use any sort of stringed instruments. It’s a ridiculous accusation.” Huh. At least it wasn’t as weird as he thought it’d be.

“Let me see them,” he said, more so of a demand. 

The stranger tilted his head. Again. He looked shocked for some reason. “Why do you want to see them, Dean?” Um, so there’ll be proof that you’re an angel?

“Because I’m curious,” he decided to answer with. “I’ve never seen angel wings before.” He shrugged lazily.

The stranger then stood up, taking it, he supposed, as a good enough reason. Keeping a safe distance away, the lights began to flicker, and a cold sensation enveloped him. His breath fogging around him, he watched as the lights fully turned off. This was strange—

Bang! Suddenly a blast of light illuminated the whole room, and lightning struck throughout the air. Black shadows spread behind the stranger’s back, and they grew to a massive size, looking exactly like… wings. Oh, god. He was telling the truth.

After a long moment of staring in awe, the lights turned on and his wings disappeared. The air grew warm, and he stopped shivering—he didn’t even realize he started to.

“You—you…” He had no words. “You’re an a-angel?”

“That’s what I told you before, yes?” The angel said, sitting down in the chair once again. “So now you believe me?”

“After that light show?” He laughed softly with surprise. “Obviously. Like, dude, that was… Insane.”

The angel’s lips curved up slightly. “Do you trust me now?” He then inquired.

Dean thought for a long moment, unsure of what he could even say. He just met the guy, and he was holding him captive. But he was an angel, right? They were meant to protect human beings… They were meant to serve and help. But could he trust him? The only man he trusted was his brother, and everyone else he had before… they were all dead. He didn’t even know where his brother was now! Maybe searching for him, or oblivious to the fact that he was gone.

“I don’t know…” He whispered, looking down. He could practically feel the angel’s disappointment with his answer, but what could he say? “Yes, I trust you” or “Maybe”? It just didn’t seem logical and… right.

“I see…” The angel replied, his voice quitter and not as rough as before. How do you even let an angel down?

“Hey,” he then said, “if you let me go, then maybe I’d trust you.”

The angel just stared at him. “I can’t do that.”

“Why not?” He scoffed, not believing this. He could surely let him go.

“Because my brothers need you,” was all he said.

“For what?” Experiments and inspections? Fun and torture?

The angel didn’t respond. He stood up and began to walk away, but before he could, Dean yelled: “Hey, you jerk! You can’t just leave me here! You have no right to keep me under lockdown.”

The angel looked over his shoulder and simply replied with: “Sure I can.” And then he left the room without further word, but this time, he left the light on.


	4. Four

Chapter Four

 

What are you supposed to think when you’ve been held captive by an angel of the Lord? What are you supposed to think when they give you no explanation of why they want you? Are you supposed to cooperate and listen to what they say? Do you fight and try to get away? Or are you supposed to just wait until they ask you to leave?

Dean had been in that cell for weeks now, everyday the same. Lights go on, the angel with no name returns to feed him, they talk, and then the lights go out. Repeat. Everyday was the same, and he knew he was starting to go insane. Sometimes he saw his brother in the corner watching him; sometimes he saw a demon try to take over.

He knew they weren’t real, of course. But sometimes it really got to him. He tried to talk to the illusions, thinking they’d talk back. They never said anything. They just stared with unblinking eyes, curious about his next move. However, he never did move, unless the angel offered him a five-minute walk around the cell.

He missed hunting and being on the road with Baby. He missed her purr as she drove, and the classic rock that would blast from her radio. He hummed Metallica to himself as he sat in the uncomfortable, wooden chair. He was lonely, and he sometimes thought that the angel was his only friend—but then again, he was the only that was holding him hostage.

“Rise and shine,” a sudden voice said as the door opened, revealing the angel. Yippee…

“Aloha, amigo,” he muttered with boredom, rolling his neck. “What are we doing today, my friend? Talking, interrogating, torture… Oh, we should try that sometime.” A grin spread across his lips. He started to think he was becoming insane himself.

“How are you feeling?” The angel asked him, sitting down in his usual spot.

“Tired, bored, angry… The usual.” He made a weird look and added, “Since when did you become my psychologist?”

He ignored the question. “Do you want to be free?”

“Obviously,” he replied, glaring at him. Always a tease, this one.

“I can let you go,” he then said.

That fully got Dean’s attention. But there always was a catch. “And?” 

“I can let you go, if you let me stay.” Dean burst out laughing, never hearing something more hilarious.

“Stay? Stay where?” He had no home. Just the car and his brother. But who would even want that, anyways? Did this angel have nothing better to do?

“With you.” 

Dean couldn’t contain his laughter. “Me? What would you want to do with me? I’m a hunter that hunts things like you, and right now, you’re the one that has captured me.”

“It’s only to watch you,” he quickly said. “Something is… out there to get you.” What? “It wants to hurt you. Badly. That is why I have kept you in here—to save you. But I cannot tell you what is coming and what it wants. All I know is that until either you or it is dead, you are in grave danger.”

Dean froze, unsure what to say. These past few weeks have left him… Unsettled. But this would explain his memory loss and why he was being held captive by an angel out of the blue. But what wanted to hurt him?

“So… If you let me go, I’m not entirely set free?” He said slowly. The angel nodded. “But I can actually live my life—with a babysitter?” He nodded again. “Will Sammy be all right?”

“The thing doesn’t want to get him, I reassure you. However, being around you might… complicate things.”

The Winchester stared at him dumbfounded, his face expressionless. “You mean I can’t be around him? I can’t see my own brother?”

“Unless you want him getting hurt,” he told him. 

He would be free… But he wouldn’t be with his own brother? Well, that was upsetting and a bunch of crap. But did he really want to put Sammy in danger? He could just tell him that he was fine, but they couldn’t see each other for a while… Why were things so complicated now of days? 

“I don’t want my little brother getting hurt… Is there anything we could do?” The word ‘we’ stung on his tongue, but he shoved it aside, hoping the angel didn’t catch onto it. ‘We’ didn’t mean anything, at least to him.

“For starters,” the angel said, “you will let me journey with you, and in return, I’ll protect you from what is coming for you.”  
“And if I refuse?”

“Then either you’ll be locked down here forever, or I can let you die out there.” Two choices that were impossible to choose. But what he could choose was to let the angel help him… And what would be the worst thing that happened? Fall in love? Like Hell that’d happen! So, obviously, there was nothing to worry about, right? 

“Then I’ll take your first offer,” Dean said. “My freedom, your protection… Perfect deal, right?” A smile spread across the angel’s lips, and suddenly, he grabbed his hand and right before his eyes was a road with trees surrounding it. It was absolutely beautiful!

He turned around in a slow circle, breathing in the smell of planet earth. Oh how he missed the world! He didn’t realize how homesick he was from the small world. Maybe he didn’t have a roof to live under, but he still had someone he loved and a vehicle he had since he could remember. 

And Sammy… He wouldn’t be able to see that little boy. He would be wondering where he was, unsure if he abandoned him or was taken away. How could he just forget Sam and never see him again?

He looked at the angel with a sad look; not letting himself shed a single tear. “I will never be able to see him again, will I?”

The angel gave him a pitied look. “I’m sorry…” He whispered.

“Don’t be,” he muttered, looking down the road, unsure of what he was looking for. He pictured him and Sam driving down the road together, never looking back, together and… fine. Fighting together, saving each other. Even through all the shit they’ve been through, they were still happy, still sane.

He could see the ghost image of the impala driving down the road, and he could hear him and his brother singing “Highway to Hell”, getting ready for their new case. 

But… He wouldn’t be able to do this—ever. He would be alone and with this angel for who knew how long.

“Can I call him?” He asked the angel after a devastating moment of silence.

The angel hesitated, looking as if he’d been struck by a bus. Tempted to smack sense into him, the angel final snapped back into reality and opened his mouth to say:

“Yes, but only one call.” Only one ever, he supposed. Who would think that getting involved with an angel would change your life completely?

The angel had soon “poofed” them to some gas station that looked like it had been run down for a good ten years. The side of the building was chipped; the windows were yellow from whatever it was; a sign that said “maintenance” hanged from the rotten doorknob. A shiver was sent down his spine and he felt like they just entered the Bates Motel.

But, luckily, they were not going to stay here. He rather bunk with a thousand cockroaches than this red neck bunker. 

Easily spotting the payphone, he made his way towards, not particularly caring at the moment about how many people have used the phone with their waste covered hands, he punched Sam’s number into the phone.

The phone rang for three beats, and he was worried that Sammy wouldn’t pick up, but then he heard:

“Sam Winchester, what can I do for you?” It was his business and annoyed voice—he was looking for him, he knew.

“Sam? It’s Dean,” he said hurriedly, looking behind his shoulder to find the angel looking around the gravel parking lot.

“Dean? Where the Hell have you been? I’ve been looking for you everywhere—“

“We don’t have much time, Sammy,” he told him. “There’s an angel—don’t ask—and he said there’s something coming for me. I’m all right though, and you shouldn’t be worried. But he said that I can’t see you until it’s gone.”

“What?” Sam breathed through the other line. “Uh, okay, hold on. There’s some monster after you?”

“Yeah.”

“But I can’t help you?”

“Yes…”

“But I can’t leave you to be hunted down and killed!” He exclaimed. After a long, frustrating moment, Sam then said, “Where are you? I’m coming to get you.”

“No, Sammy. Don’t come looking for me; don’t even try. I’m a lost cause, and you’ll only get yourself killed.”

“You’re very selfish, you know that?” Sam snarled.

Dean shook his head, inhaling a painful breath. “I know.” And then he hung up, walking away from the phone. He couldn’t let Sam know where he was. He would get himself killed, just like the angel had said.

“You ready?” The angel asked him, seemingly oblivious to the ire radiating off the male.

Dean honestly hated the angel. He takes him, then tells him he’s gonna die, and then prevents him from seeing his own blood. It’s worse than it sounds. Imagine some angelic figure changing your life in a matter of minutes? Sometimes he thought this was all just a bad dream. But then he remembers that it’s actually reality.

But the just “you ready?” left him there with no words. Was he ready to run? To never see his brother? To possibly be killed for good and never come back? Figuratively speaking, he would have been balling his eyes out. Legitimately, he was calm but furious, and he desperately wanted to break something.

“Yeah, I’m ready.”


	5. Five

Chapter Five

 

A month had passed and Sam, thankfully, hadn’t found him. Yet. The angel, who still hasn’t even given his name, sat by his side on the GO bus to Colorado. He wasn’t so sure why he didn’t just “poof” them everywhere, but he supposed that it drained the angel’s power. It would make sense.

The angel’s expression was neutral as he sat there with his hands firmly on his thighs. He was a strange being with no personality whatsoever—besides the occasional hot-headedness. But Dean didn’t mind that he was so… strange. Sometimes the angel wouldn’t even talk—it would be frustrating at times—and he would be able to think and calm down.

Eventually, he stopped thinking about his brother all the time. He started to forget the smallest details about him, for he didn’t even have a photo of him in his pocket. It was upsetting, really, but it is what it is. He found it crazy how after only twenty days, Sammy’s face wouldn’t form in his head. Of course he remembered how smart he was, and his kindness and bravery… But… He just didn’t know.

Hearing the driver yell: “Colorado!” Dean stood up and immediately evacuated from the bus, walking down the cold street. The angel was like his shadow as he followed him. He was there, but he still felt utterly alone.

Dean started to wonder what would happen if he went rogue against the angel. Would his brothers smite him for the act of prejudice? Would they even care? But how would he even pull such an act with the lack of weapons and resources? He didn’t even have a bag of clothes!

Entering a hotel on the corner of the street, he went to the clerk and passed him a fake MasterCard from his pocket.

“Ernie Franklinton?” The clerk inquired, squinting as he inspected the badge. 

Dean quirked a brow and pursed his lips. “Is there a problem with my name, sir?” His acting seemed to get better and better now of days.

“Nope,” he replied lazily, setting down the card after jotting down the number. Was he supposed to do that? At least it wasn’t real. 

“One room, two queens.”

“Third door to your right, down the hall,” was all he said, clearly a dismissal.

“Thanks,” he muttered before grudgingly walking where he directed. When he entered the room, instantly he plopped onto the springy mattress, letting out a sigh of relief. “Thank God…” He whispered to himself, closing his eyes.

The angel walked in, shutting the door behind him. “I don’t sleep,” he reminded him.

“And I don’t want the clerk thinking you’re my sex buddy,” he shot back, opening up one eye to look at him. The angel’s cheeks flared a dark red. Huh.

“I am not you’re… ‘sex buddy’,” the angel told him, sitting on the opposite bed.

“Exactly. You’re just my annoying babysitter that won’t leave me alone.”

“Hey,” the angel growled, “if you want to be left alone, I’ll leave right now and let that thing get you.”

Dean rolled his eyes, sitting up to fully stare at him. “And where is it, huh? I haven’t heard any scratches, no light flickering, and no cold spots… Nada. Seems like it’s leaving me alone.”

“That’s because I’m with you, Dean. Without me, that thing would be on you in seconds.” 

Dean snorted, shaking his head. “Right…” He muttered to himself, lying back down, arms under his head. 

He could feel the angel’s cold gaze on him, but he wouldn’t look at him. He was so done hearing all this crap! But what could he do? He just had to sit and wait, maybe let the thing come for him and have the angel smite it. But really, he could go against it easily and win. He was a hunter, after all.

But considering that the angel wouldn’t leave his side, there was no point of trying.

After a couple of minutes, ire boiling in his blood as the angel’s eyes were still on him, and shot up and snapped: “What’s your problem?”

The angel looked surprised, and he shifted uncomfortably. “I have no problem,” he said slowly, tilting his head.

“Yeah, says those blue balls in your head that like to stare.” He crossed his arms, biting the inside of his cheek. The angel’s cheeks were pink, and Dean knew he was getting to him. At least he knew how to agitate a celestial being.

“I am sorry for crossing over your personal space,” the angel apologized after regaining himself.

Dean rolled his eyes and stood up, moving towards the door. “I need a drink,” he grumbled and left the room, not even looking back to see if the angel was following him. What was the point, anyways?

“Dean!” The angel then called. “Dean, stop!” He grabbed his shoulder, spinning him around.

“Dude,” he shoved him off, “I never said you could touch me.” The angel looked hurt—only for a moment. What was up with this guy?

The angel’s expression went serious as he said; “You can’t just get drunk when there are things after you.”

Dean let out an exasperated sigh. “And these things haven’t even shown up yet! I’m pretty sure going out for a couple hours won’t hurt.” He frowned slightly and added, “You’re coming with me anyways, so…”

Without waiting for a response, the male turned around and walked away, his steps quicker. It wasn’t long before he found the closest bar, and thankfully the angel didn’t try to stop him. It was just a normal brick building with a neon sign that read: “Joey’s Dive Bar.” 

Slipping inside, he took a spot by the bar, eying the bartended as she stepped forward, cleaning a shot glass.

“What’s a fella like you doing here?” She asked him, her accent sounding Southern.

Dean grinned and replied with, “Just needing a drink. But the real question is: what is a pretty girl like you doing here?”

The bartender’s lips curved upward. “Just passing by, needing some extra bills before I can go home.” Setting down the glass, she then added, “Let me get you a round of whiskey.” Winking, she poured the liquor into the glass and slid it towards him.

Holding it up in ‘cheers’, the male purred, “Thank you”—he quickly read her badge—“Felicia.” 

She rolled her eyes playfully and walked off to assist the other men who sat at the bar. Watching them, he noticed their eye stuck to her like glue. Disgusting. Setting his head back as he swigged the shot, the liquid burning down his throat, he nearly jumped as the angel with the trench coat sat down beside him.

“Only been here for a minute, and you’ve already flirted and gotten a free drink,” the angel said, his tone surprised.

Dean smirked and said, “Doesn’t hurt to flirt your way through things, my friend.” He set down the glass and tapped it twice, gesturing for the beautiful bartender to refill it.

Felicia strode over with a playful grin and obliged, pouring the liquid in, leaning over the counter purposefully to expose her cleavage. Dean smiled at her and took the glass in his hand, eying her flirtatiously.

“How very kind of you,” he purred. 

“Anything for you, mystery man.” She winked and walked off once again, not even sparing the angel a glance. 

Sighing to himself, he looked over at the angel, chugging the shot. “You know, you being here is ruining my game.”

“Maybe this ‘game’ you’re playing shouldn’t be played at all,” he shot back, glaring.

Dean raised his arms in defense, shaking his head. “Hey, I’ll do what I want whenever I want. All you can do is watch me get drunk and then drag me back to the hotel.” He shrugged carelessly.

“Fun…” The angel muttered, leaning into the stool and inspected the area around him. He made a face and said after a couple moments, “Why do you hang around in such environments?”

“Do you have a problem with Dive Bars?” Dean inquired. 

“Yes, I have a problem with Dive Bars. All you humans do is get drunk, party and have intercourse with people you just met right after. It’s no way to live.”

Dean snorted. “Says the angel who guards a random every moment of their life because they have nothing better to do.” The angel rolled his eyes, not saying anything else. Good.

The bartender returned after a while, and every time she filled his glass, he felt the alcohol hit him harder and harder. Eventually, he was wasted, and he couldn’t even find the washroom. Of course the angel helped, but he was utterly pissed.

Returning to the bar, the male eyed the bartender wolfishly and murmured:

“How would you feel about coming to my hotel and having some fun?” 

Felicia looked at him, her ginger hair glowing brightly under the sun-like light, and her green eyes shining brighter than they had before. Somehow, she looked more stunning at that moment.

“I would like that,” she agreed, wiggling her eyebrows playfully.

The angel shot him a look, almost looking like a plea. But Dean ignored it. “Let’s go.” Dean took her arm as she offered it, and he led her outside. The angel, thankfully, stayed behind. He definitely wasn’t invited.

~~~~~

Dean was instantly on her when they reached the hotel. She was sprawled against the bed, and his hands were roaming around her delicate body. He kissed her deeply, feeling every inch of her as he did so.

He wanted her. He needed her. She tasted better than he had imagined.

She let out a moan as he sucked marks into her neck, licking it slightly. He grinned with satisfaction, and his arms moved up and down her sides, his nails biting into her skin. She was his tonight, and he was hers.

~~~~~

The next morning, she was gone. Not even her panties were left on the ground. But despite that, it was the least of his problems. His head pounded from the hangover that was affecting him, and he knew that if anyone said a single word to him, he’d probably cry.

“She left a couple hours ago,” a sudden voice said, causing him to jump. Banging his head against the bed frame, he let out a moan of pain.

“Don’t do that!” He whispered angrily, rubbing the back of his head.

“I am sorry for frightening you.” Dean rolled his shoulders, moving to the edge of his bed, looking at the angel who stood in the corner, his face turning pale. 

After a moment, he then realized he wasn’t clothed. He let out a screech and cursed under his breath, quickly slipping on his jeans and t-shirt. “You didn’t see anything,” he snapped, moving into the washroom to hide and never come out. Again.

He sat on the toilet, two fingers pressed into the bridge of his nose. The curse of an angel practically living with you… They will never mind their own business. God, he wished the angel considered the fact that humans don’t get dressed right after sex.

“Dean?” The angel said through the door after an hour. “We should get,uh… going.”

“Leave me alone.”

“Dean, really—“

“Do you really think I want to see you right now? I was just naked in front of you, and I have a excruciating headache that makes me want to pull my hair out!” His tone was harsher than intended, but he didn’t particularly care at the moment.

“I assure you that things won’t be awkward,” the angel said.

Why wasn’t he getting the point? “Just leave me alone!” He snapped, turning on the faucet and shower so he wouldn’t have to hear his voice. He just needed to be alone and calm…

“Dean, please,” the angel said through the door after a long moment. Why could he still hear him?

“What do you want?” He cried.

“We have to go—“

The sound of something being thrown across the room caused him to stand up from his spot. He put his ear to the door, hearing nothing but utter silence. His heart raced, and he knew he had to do something. Mustering up his courage, Dean swung the door open and looked both ways, finding a shattered window and the angel unconscious on the ground.

Cursing to himself, the male hurried to his side, shaking him. “Wake up!” He hissed, ignoring his headache. But he didn’t. “Son of a bitch…” 

He stood up and looked around the room, finding anything he could use to protect himself. A lamp, clock, a bar of soap… Useless. Picking up the cheap lamp that probably couldn’t even knock out something and would do more harm to itself than others.

Standing there for a long moment, his heart pounding and his mind buzzing, the light burned out, causing him to jump. It was coming—it was close. He looked to the angel for a moment, praying that he’d wake up, but still he lay there unconscious.

“Show yourself, you son of a bitch!” Dean snarled, holding the lamp up like a bat. He heard a low, mocking laugh echo throughout the room, and a shivering wind brushed past him. “Stop acting like a coward and show yourself!” He tried again.

At first he thought nothing happened, but in the corner of his eye, a black figure stood there. He spun around to face the creature, and his eyes widened at what he saw. It had gray, rubber skin with red beaming eyes; its fingers were long and razor sharp; he could smell its rotting breath from ten feet away. It was like a gremlin, but only worse.

“Dean Winchester,” it growled, its joints twitching as it stood there. It looked like a predator staring at its prey.

“Oh, and you’re that thing that wants to bite my ass,” he greeted it, offering it a fake smile. It quickly died down as the thing stepped closer. “Stay back!” He yelled.

“Or what?” It asked, its voice low and unfathomable. “You’ll smack me with a broken lamp?”

Dean’s face paled, and he held the lamp slack against his side. There was no point on trying. “Uh, or my friend over here will smite you into oblivion,” he decided to threaten.

The thing laughed, the sound piercing through his soul. “Your angel friend looks a little occupied at the moment.” Dean didn’t dare to look at the angel. He just stared at the thing, slowly moving away from it.

“Look, I don’t want any trouble…”

“Oh, but I do,” it replied, licking its lips. His tongue was shaped like a snake’s! Oh god, if this was the freaking Devil… No, no… Lucifer took vessel in humans, not as a disgusting gremlin.

Dean bumped into the television stand behind him, and he heard something drop onto the ground. In seconds, the thing’s fingers were wrapped around his throat, and he was thrown across the room. Pain exploded throughout his body, and he let out a cry, hissing slightly. Shit, shit, shit…. What to do? He was in so much trouble at the moment!

The creature moved towards him and crouched, putting a hand on his forehead. “This will only hurt a little bit…” He murmured, and then everything turned dark.  
Chapter Six

 

Castiel awoke, gasping for a breath. Looking around, his blue eyes wide, he found Dean sprawled on the ground, limp. Oh, Father, please don’t let that Winchester boy be dead! He hoisted himself up and moved to his side, nudging Dean slightly. He didn’t move. He then checked his pulse, but fortunately, it was there.

Letting out a sigh of relief, he sat down and rubbed his eyes, trying to feel if there was anything—if that thing was still there. Not a single shred of power, aside from his own, radiated around the block. 

“You’ll be fine, Dean,” he murmured as he watched the male sleep. Planting two fingers on the hunter’s forehead, the male bolted awake, shaking slightly.

He looked at Castiel for a long moment, tilting his head as if he was trying to depict who he was. Oh no… But then a smile spread across his lips. “It’s just you,” he whispered.

“Yes, and that thing is gone,” he told him.

Dean was still smiling. Weird. Sometimes that human confused him. “Good. But… Now what? That thing was pretty strong and knocked me out cold.”

“Do you remember anything?” Castiel asked him.

Dean thought for a moment, and then shook his head. “Not really. I mean, I remember the thing coming at me, and then being bashed and then… nothing. It’s weird.”

“He must have hit you pretty hard then,” he mumbled, furrowing his brows as he looked at the human.

Dean nodded, rubbing the back of his neck, wincing. Castiel couldn’t help but think he was acting… different. But what did he know? He just met this human, and even if he’s been with him basically every second of his life this past month, he still barely knew him. But honestly, even his aurora looked… darker. Shrugging it off, the angel helped the Winchester stand.

“How are you feeling?” Castiel asked him as he was on his feet.

“I’ve been better,” he told me. “I’ve been worse.” He laughed slightly, rolling his shoulders. Castiel couldn’t help but smile slightly, but it disappeared after a moment. “So, where are we off to now?”

“We have to get far from here,” he told him vaguely.

“And…?” Dean gave him a dumb look, raising one brow as he waited for more to it. Humans. Always needing to know things.

“I’m not sure,” he admitted after a minute. “That thing can find us anywhere, and he is seemingly stronger than I am. We just need to get away, and we’ll figure it out from there.”

Dean snorted, looking up at the ceiling as he inhaled a long breath. “All right, Castiel, let’s go.”

Castiel was about to walk off, but then he realized the man had called him by his name. “What did you say?” He took a step closer to him, his gaze hardening. “How do you know my name?” He demanded.

His eyes widened, taking a step back and his arms rose in defense. “I don’t know… Being hit must have triggered memories or something?” He looked like a weak puppy that was honestly confused. But he had to keep an eye on him.

“You are remembering?” He inquired, tilting his head.

“I guess?” He answered cautiously. “Are you going to let me go, or are you going to interrogate me?”

Castiel took a few paces away, giving him an apologetic look. “I’m sorry for invading your personal space… again.” Dean just rolled his eyes and left the room, keeping the door open for him. 

The hunter sometimes really unnerved him. Following behind him quickly, the duo had taken another bus, going north towards Dekota and Wyoming. Getting close to Canada was a smart idea, yes? 

They travelled for days, and every morning, Castiel noticed the Winchester getting stranger. He wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t complain, but he was also more angry. He went out to get drunk and seduce girls often, and it was starting to worry and annoy the angel. However, he couldn’t prevent him from doing all of this, even if it attracted demons and paranormal entities.

Dean even stopped mentioning Sam’s name at all. It was like he forgot who he was. But maybe it was a good thing? Moving on and living on the road to keep him safe? Castiel didn’t know; he wasn’t human.

Sometimes, the angel would teleport them to areas that were too far to get to, or if they didn’t have enough money to spend on a bus or taxi. The angel stopped robbing grocery stores, as Dean just wouldn’t eat anything. And strange enough, he was still muscular and an average weight. It was as if he wasn’t even human anymore, but he wasn’t complaining.

But he started to wonder if he should worry or not. Right at that moment, Dean sat on the other side of the booth of a diner, looking at the menu. He could have sworn his eyes kept flicking up and down, but he wasn’t sure.

Sitting uncomfortably, he watched other people sit and eat and the waitresses pass by. They were normal, all consisting of the same energy. Looking at Dean, he said:

“Are you going to eat this time?”

Dean looked up, shrugging. “The salad looks good, I suppose.” Castiel tilted his head, confused. Last time he ate a vegetable, he got angry about the angel feeding his “rabbit food”. Maybe he the sense really was knocked out of him.

“Really?” Castiel asked, furrowing his brows.

“Uh… yeah?” He set the menu down, leaning into the booth. “Might as well eat healthy.” He shrugged.

Dean was getting stranger and stranger. Something happened that night when Castiel was thrown unconscious, and he knew it. But he couldn’t place what happened.

“How have you been feeling since, you know, when that thing attacked us?” Castiel pressed, leaning forward, his expression serious.

Dean took a sip of the water on the table, giving him a weird look. “It’s been a while since then.”

“Just answer he question,” he demanded.

“Okay…” He set the water down. “I’m honestly fine. Yeah, my head still hurts, but other than that, I’m peachy.”

Castiel nodded, taking in his answer. He supposed he could trust him and believe the answer. But the fact that he was acting different unsettled him. “All right,” was all he said in response.


	6. Six

Chapter Six

 

A few more weeks had passed, and Dean just wasn’t himself. But for some reason, he liked how he was. He was calmer, sweeter… He didn’t talk back or question. But some times he thought he was being a little secretive. Sure, he slept with many girls and had his personal time every once in a while, but even after the ladies left, he still didn’t want Castiel to enter.

But ultimately, he had a feeling Dean was faking all of this—that he was just acting. 

They were walking down a dark alley, Castiel’s hands clenched into fists. But then, suddenly, the hunter stopped walking and just stared at. “Do you trust me, Cass?” The question took him off guard.

“Yes,” he lied. He didn’t one bit.

“That’s good…” He murmured, smiling softly. After what seemed like a good awkward ten minutes, he then asked, “Why?”

Was this a test? A trick? “Because you’re a good man,” he decided to reply with. It seemed to be the best answer in all the movies he had seen.

Dean smirked, looking at the ground then back up to look into Castiel’s blue eyes. “How am I a good man?”

These questions were starting to make him uncomfortable. He hesitated with his answer, shrugging slightly. “You put others first before yourself. You don’t lie, and you’re a good friend.” Of course, he knew that Dean had lied many times. But when and why? 

“How do you know that?” Dean said, his tone darker. “I am not a good man. At all.”

“Why would you say that about yourself?” Castiel tilted his head, daring a step closer to him. It was a stupid and dangerous move.

“Because…” He whispered, closing the space between them. “I’ve only been pretending for you…” Before Castiel could object, the male pressed his lips against his own, causing a surge of electricity to go throughout his body. He shuddered slightly, his legs buckling as the male kissed him deeper.

He had never felt such a mix of emotions. His lips were soft and tender, and he was just… Wow. He had never kissed anything before, and this man made his first time wonderful. But why was he doing this now? Why was Dean falling for him? He had been with so many different women, and then he, for some reason, goes for a male? 

But at this moment, he didn’t seem to care. His hand moved up the male’s side, slowly cupping his cheek. “Dean…” he groaned.

“Don’t talk,” he whispered into his mouth, shaking his head slightly. “Don’t say a word.” He pushed the angel against the wall, kissing his neck, his cheek… A satisfied groan escaped Castiel’s mouth, and he found his eyes fluttering shut.

But as his emotions and pleasures got the best of him, a piercing pain went through his side, and a gasp escaped his lips. “Dean?” He murmured, falling to his knees, looking up.

Dean’s eyes were no longer emerald green. They were red and unfathomable—they were evil and relentless. It was Dean… It wasn’t the Dean he had known. His hand moved up, covering the thing’s eyes. He couldn’t look at them. He couldn’t believe that his theories were right. The hunter he was protecting was taken, and he didn’t even realize it—fully. He knew that it wasn’t him, but he let him get to him…

“You’re not him… you’re not him,” he got out, shaking his head. The pain in his side was nothing to the pain in his heart. He felt betrayed, fooled. He was a puppet, and Dean had played him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, moving down to his height. Castiel let out a gasp, closing his eyes. Whatever he had stabbed him with, it was working, and he could feel himself start to fade. “I’m sorry it had to be this way.”

“Why?” He coughed, holding onto his wound, trying to pull the dagger out, but he was too weak to budge it.

“Because you were trying to prevent me”—he trailed a finger down the angel’s forehead—“from getting the Winchester.”

Castiel let out a painful wheeze, opening his eyes to see the red glow. He didn’t try to cover them this time. He wanted to look into what had hurt him and Dean. “But… you already… have him…”

“But if you figured out that your ‘boyfriend’ was being possessed by a Fiend, then you would have tried to de-possess me.” He tilted his head as he inspected the dying angel. “And I wouldn’t want that, would I?” He put a hand on the angel’s wound, pressing into it, causing pain to shoot through him.

“You bastard,” he gasped, letting out a cry, trying to move away, but it only made it worse. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because this Winchester took something from me,” he told him, removing his hand from his wound. Castiel let out a sigh of relief, squeezing his eyes shut. “And I want to punish him.”

“By taking his life? —“

“What he took was my life!” He snarled into his face, his teeth bared. “It was everything I had and loved!”

Now this just became personal. “So revenge… is your… conclusion?” 

“Yes. Why? Because there’s nothing else in my dark heart,” he growled. “And I like to feel him scream in my mind as he watches you get murdered.” His mouth curved up to a devilish grin, causing a shiver to run down his spine.

“Then what now?” Castiel inhaled a sharp breath, his heart feeling as if it were beating slower. The pain in his side started to thrum, but he tried his best to endure it.

“You die.”


End file.
